He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
“So you’re a ghost,” I say. “A dead man walking around my apartment.”
“For three more days, yes.”
I frown. “What happens in three days?”
“Aleksei’s on the West Coast,” Bastian explains. “Business trip. But when he gets back and realizes what I’ve done—that I faked my death to get out—he’ll know I betrayed him. And Sage…”
His voice fractures on his brother’s name.
I lean back against the door, suddenly grateful for its solidity. My legs feel like they might give out. “So you came here.”
“I had nowhere else to go.”
The laugh that escapes me is sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re unbelievable. You know that? You let me mourn you, put me through hell, and now, you show up because you need something. Typical fucking man. Nowhere to be found when I need you, but as soon as you need me, boom, here you are.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice.” He hesitates, then adds, “I wanted to look for you, you know. After you ran. But I didn’t. For your sake, I didn’t.”
“Formysake?” I repeat, incredulous. “You disappeared into the criminal underworld and committed murder for ‘my’ sake? I think you need to go back to the School of Grand Romantic Gestures, buddy, because this ain’t it.”
“You saw what I became that night,” he growls. “In that alley. You looked at me like I was a monster, and you were right to. So I stayed away because that’s what you deserved: to be free of me.”
“Don’t you dare make yourself the martyr in this story.”
“I’m not. I know what I am, Eliana. I’ve always known.” He takes a step closer, his scent and heat invading my space. “And I knowbetter than to ask for forgiveness. Even if you’d give it to me, I don’t deserve it. So don’t mistake why I’m here. I didn’t come for that; I know it’s a lost cause. I came for Sage. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“So what do you want from me?” I ask.
“I need your help.”
“That’s fucking rich,” I scoff. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m blind, broke, and on the run from a murderous asshole.”
I can practically hear him running his hands through his hair. “I’m desperate, Eliana. I can’t involve Zeke—Aleksei knows him. He’d be in danger the second I made contact. I can’t go to the police without Aleksei finding out, because he owns every fucking cop in Chicago. I need someone he doesn’t know about. Someone outside the Bratva’s awareness. Someone who’s already a ghost like me, who is smart enough to help me figure out how to get Sage back without getting him killed in the process.”
He pauses. Waits.
“I need you, Eliana.”
A deathless silence follows. God, I wish it could swallow me whole.
“You have a lot of fucking nerve,” I whisper at last.
“I know.”
“After everything?—”
“I know.”
“—you show up here and ask me to?—”
“I know,” he says. “But I have nowhere else to go. So that’s the question: Will you help me?”
12
BASTIAN
dying in the window /'diiNG in T?H? 'windo/: phrase
